Here With You
by MoonBlooms
Summary: Ginny's afraid of losing Harry while he's off destroying horcruxes. And she knows just how to keep an eye on him. Harry doesn't like it, but he'd do anything to know that Ginny's safe. Yes, who wouldn't want to share an untraceable connection? T for later
1. Bonding at Midnight

They stood alone in Ginny's room for the first time in a long time. If you didn't count the catastrophe from earlier, which Ginny didn't.

All was quiet. The party had wrapped up hours ago, everyone turning in early after cake.

Harry was a dark silhouette against her door, not moving closer. She half-rose from her bed, waiting for him to say something.

"Sorry…I would've been here sooner, but I had to make sure Ron was asleep…?"

"That's okay," she replied, ignoring the unspoken question he added at the end, "It's not like I was going to get any sleep any time soon."

"Are you sure about this?"

She'd been expecting that. Ginny sighed and began to pace the length of her room, running her hands through her hair. _Was_ she ready? No. But what choice did she have? After tomorrow, Harry would be gone. What if he died? How would she know? Unless they announced it in the _Daily Prophet_, she wouldn't.

She stopped pacing. "Yes."

Harry was silent. She turned from boring a hole through her dresser to look at him. "Are _you_ sure?"

"Not completely."

Ginny made a noise of frustration. Her hands flew to her hair again, the pacing starting afresh. "Look, it's simple. You're worried I might die; I'm worried you might die. We want to know what's happening while we're separated. End of story. Done!"

"Yeah," said Harry from the shadows, voice reluctant, "But…isn't there another way?"

"Not that _I_ can think of."

Harry cussed softly, moving into view with his own hand in his hair. "I am such an…_idiot_. Hermione was just in Ron's room—I should've said something-"

"No, you shouldn't have." Ginny said firmly, feeling more comfortable if the only people who knew about this were the two of them. "Besides, it's not permanent—how do you think magical folk can get a divorce?"

"Ginny, we're talking about a _bond_ here."

"Do you think I don't know that?" She strode right up to him, looked him straight in the eyes. "I'm not joking. I'm _scared_, Harry, scared for _you_. How will I know if you're alive…or dead? What about Ron? And Hermione? What if _they_ die?"

Harry was no longer meeting her eyes.

"Hey," she murmured soothingly. She waited until they locked eyes again. "I trust you not to let any of that happen. This is…just in case…okay?"

Sighing, Harry nodded. "How do make this…_bond_?"

"It's just like the bond Bill and Fleur will create tomorrow. Only, not the priest's way."

Ginny stood toe-to-toe with Harry, chest-to-chest, nose-to-nose, eye-to-eye, and forehead-to-forehead. It wasn't comfortable—she had to stand on tip-toe in order to do it. But that didn't matter now.

"W-what next?" asked Harry, sounding embarrassed by her closeness.

"We take our wands and tap each other on the head at the same time."

"…Wait, _what_? That's it?"

Ginny furrowed her brow. The action felt very strange with Harry's forehead pressed to hers. "No. There's something else…some kind of cheesy saying…." More thinking, then, "I _think_ it's 'I bind myself to thee'."

"…Seriously?"

"Like I said, cheesy. But it's ancient magic, so it's going to be a bit corny."

"Great."

"Look, let's just get this over with—I've lost feeling in my toes."

Simultaneously, Harry and Ginny drew their wands—Ginny from the waistband of her pajamas and Harry from his jeans pocket.

Ginny took a deep, steadying breath. This was it. After hours of gushing over party favors and doily-things in order to pump Fleur for information at just the right time. After steeling herself to ask her parents what the bond of marriage would entail. After the epic disaster that took place earlier in her room as she attempted tell Harry her plans. Yes, even after she slipped Harry the note when she was handing out birthday cake.

This was it.

Ginny opened her eyes, realizing she must have unconsciously closed them.

She raised her wand. Harry did the same.

"Ginny…_are you_ _sure_. There's a lot of stuff that goes on in my head, around me. Some of it—_most _of it isn't something I'd wish on anyone else. _No one_ should have to go through what I go through."

"There's no turning back now," she said, bringing her wand down to tap Harry on the head, the words to the bond already forming on her lips.

Harry slipped from Ginny's room into the dark stairway. He maneuvered the stairs, careful not to make steps two, seven, and nine creak. Outside Ron's door, he paused to make sure Ron was snoring and entered.

Methodically, he switched his jeans and t-shirt for lounge pants and a t-shirt, his mind still in the room with Ginny.

He could feel the bond. Even though doors and stairs separated him from her, to Harry it was as if she was still pressed up against him. A ghostly heart—_her_ heart—beat next to his, the main artery pumping to the right instead of the left. Deep in his mind, he could feel her presence: a fiery bird-like bundle of thoughts that fluttered at some unconscious level of his brain.

He really _was_ an idiot. Nothing else happened in her room after the bond was formed. Kissing her, he'd said good night and left. But even before he'd reached for her doorknob, Harry began to regret. He regretted saying yes to the bond, to creating it.

If Ginny was feeling what he was feeling, she would experience every horrific moment of his quest to find the horcruxes. How could he live with himself if he knew every bone-chilling, gut wrenching encounter gripped Ginny as well?

_Tomorrow_, Harry vowed as he drifted to sleep on the camp cot in Ron's room, _I'll talk to Ginny. I'll convince her to break the bond. I'll make her understand…_


	2. Disaster Wedding

She was not avoiding Harry.

She was not avoiding Harry.

No matter how much Ginny ducked through the crowd when she saw him coming, she was not avoiding Harry. And, to some extent, it was true.

Bill and Fleur had been married for an official two hours. Now, under a huge floating canopy, the reception was in full swing.

Never before had Ginny seen so many of her close and distant relatives in one place at one time. Still, no matter how much she tried to focus on her conversation with Cousin Sophia, a nagging feeling always brought her eyes to Harry.

He seemed a little lost, dressed and disguised in a plump red-head's skin. As she watched, he wandered through the throng, not really socializing with anyone. She felt sorry for him. But after what happened last night…she wasn't ready to…

"Ginny? Hey! Are you listening?" Cousin Sophia yelled in her ear.

"N-no," said Ginny, returning her attention to Sophia and trying to ignore the intense ringing of her ear drum. "I'm sorry. What was that you were saying?"

"Oh," Sophia sighed, winding one of her intense red curls around her finger, "I was just thinking out loud about how much I _love_ weddings!"

"Um, that's nice. I like weddings too."

"I don't _like_ them—I _love_ them!" Sophia cried, throwing her arms in the air, "I mean, don't you fantasize about what it'll be like? The dress, the favors, and the _bond_! Can you imagine what the _bond_ would be like? Being tied to someone physically _and_ mentally?"

Ginny's mind shattered.

Sophia didn't notice…She just kept on gushing…

About a bond.

_The_ bond.

Could she imagine? Of course she could. She spent half the night lying awake in complete awe about it. Even now, standing here, she could feel it.

She wanted to tell Sophia how amazing, scary, exhilarating it was. What would someone—a family member—say if they found out she was, for all intents and purposes, married? Because that's what she was, right? Bonded with Harry in a Bond of Marriage?

"Um, Sophia?" breathed Ginny, her voice shaky. "Sophia!"

"…and I want all of my bridesmaids—Huh? Did you say something?"

"Yes…I'm sorry, but—I, uh, I need more punch! I'll be right back!" And with that, Ginny left Sophia at the side of the dance floor, disappearing into the crowd.

She got as far as the nearest tree from the party and collapsed. Putting her back to the rough bark, Ginny closed her eyes and immersed herself in the bond. Out here in the night, Harry's presence in her mind seemed to glow. Blue-white electricity that shocked her senses.

Back under the canopy, Harry was confused and annoyed about something. With her eyes and her mind, she searched for him. It wasn't very easy, what with the distance she'd put between them. From the tree, Ginny could just make out the shock of red curly hair that was Harry. She almost forgot he was incognito.

He was definitely talking to someone. Two some ones. And, by the looks of the horrible old-lady hat perched on one of the heads, Harry had landed himself the honor of conversing with Aunt Muriel. (_Old bat_, Ginny thought.) The other person was an elderly wizard Ginny had never seen before. He appeared very upset by whatever Aunt Muriel was barking about.

Poor Harry looked absolutely helpless with confusion as Aunty Muriel and the wizard dueled back and forth with words. Aunty Muriel was obviously winning, to Ginny's distaste.

Suddenly—from the stars themselves it seemed—a great orb of light plummeted out of the sky. It ghosted through the canopy and landed in the middle of the dance floor. Ginny couldn't hear the words it spoke, but by the reaction she felt in Harry, the news it brought wasn't good.

Bolting upright, Ginny began to run and—

_She was under the canopy. The party-goers were panicking—fleeing, dissaperating, screaming. _

_She fought against them, trying to reach Ron and Hermione. Fear gripped her stomach, choked her throat._

_Shadowed figures pressed in from all sides, moving through the crowd, stunning and preventing people from leaving. _

_Hands grabbed her own, spun her on the spot, and—_

"Oi! Get up! Don't bother tryin' to fight. I've killed hundreds of innocents an' I'm not afraid to do the same t' you."Grunted a fowl black outline above her.

She was on the ground, not far from the base of the tree she'd rested under.

A wand nudged her smartly, it's master not giving her mind time to regroup. Ginny got to her feet, bewildered and a bit faint.

The Death Eater holding her by wand point smiled crookedly. "If I was you, I'd keep my wand away." He prodded her in the back, corralling her back under the canopy, where the other hostages were.

Under the threat that anyone who lied would be given a dose of the Cruciatus curse, each party guest was questioned. Suspicious hostages were sent to one group after being questioned, where they were re-questioned under the Cruciatus curse. Those who were not suspicious were sent to a second group.

Struggle as she might, Ginny failed to keep her mind in her current circumstance. One moment she was waiting in line—the next she was in a dimly lit café fighting two muggle-clad death eaters. Waiting in line—in the dark trying to figure out what to do. Approaching her questioner—dissaperating from the café.

When the death eater asked what her problem was, Ginny stated that she had hit her head when she fell, and now had a headache. This was somewhat true. Each trip into Harry's mind was a blue lightening of pain through her entire being. Each time she came to, her hands were gripping her skull and her legs were jelly. It was close to impossible to answer a single question without being sucked back into Harry's world.

After what felt like hours, the death eater questioning her let her go, pointing to the unsuspicious group. Her mother, Fred, and Remus Lupin were already there.

"Ginny, are you alright? Are you hurt?" Her mother enfolded her into her arms. Ginny hugged her firmly.

Another flash gripped her, revealing a rather familiar interior of a house.

Over her mother's shoulder, Ginny met Remus's eyes. "I have information," she breathed, so soft only the four of them heard.

Fred looked around for the death eater keeping their group together. "'ey! You! Yeah, you. D' you mind if I head back to the house for a bit? I gotta take a leak!"

"You'll stay where you are!"

"Look, buddy, I _really_ gotta go!"

Using Fred's distraction, Ginny whispered, "Gimmauld Place." Lupin nodded, understanding exactly what she meant.

Tired and drained, Ginny relaxed. If Harry was really in number twelve Gimmauld Place, he would be safe—if only temporarily. All she could do was hope…and hold onto her connection with Harry like a drowning man to a lifeline.

Gimmauld Place was deadly quiet. Ron and Hermione had fallen asleep not long ago. Nothing was keeping them awake now that Mr. Weasley had sent words of safety.

Harry didn't need those words, however. His connection to Ginny had shown him. It was Ginny herself he needed. As ridiculous as it sounded—even to him—the lack of her presence worried him. Not just her presence in their bond—her _physical_ presence.

Lying awake in a house that slept made him feel extremely lonely.

He willed his heart to slow, to match each beat with Ginny's. Soothing, calming his nerves. In a matter of minutes, Harry was asleep, his mind touching Ginny's.


	3. Mental Connections Aren't Enough

Days passed, then weeks. Ginny's headaches grew far apart as Harry settled into life at Number Twelve Gimmauld Place. Which was good, in Ginny's opinion. Life was hard enough at the moment without finding herself visiting Harry's mind every few minutes.

Nothing was the same after the wedding. She was a prisoner in her own home. They all were. Her father received special privilege to go directly from the Burrow to work at exactly eight o'clock.

No one else was allowed to leave the house. The enchantments meant to keep death eaters out were now keeping her family in.

Just thinking about it made Ginny claustrophobic.

Fred and George were staying in the apartment above Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Bill and Fleur were living in a cottage that used to belong to a distant aunt. Percy and Ron were both missing in action. Charlie had returned to Romania.

She was left alone, the last baby bird to leave her parents' nest.

Mrs. Weasley tried to make the current situation more comfortable for the three of them, but only made things worse. Like anyone _wanted_ to participate in family bonding activities. (The word 'bonding' alone had Ginny holed up in her room.)

Staring at the same four walls every day gave Ginny plenty of time to think, however. And think she did. About Harry. About what the future might hold. And about the bond—especially the bond.

The more she thought, the more Ginny came to the impression that something was wrong with her bond to Harry. Neither Bill, nor Fleur, nor her parents said anything about being able to see into the mind of the one they're bonded to. And even if they forgot or chose not to tell her, Ginny didn't see her mother doubling over with pain when her father was having a bad day at work. The night the Order transported Harry to the Burrow, her mother didn't appear to be going through what Ginny went through the night of the wedding ambush.

_Maybe we did something wrong_, Ginny would reason, _maybe the saying wasn't what I thought it was._

Over and over, the same worries swirled in her head. What if the bond grew stronger? Or weaker? What if she got stuck in Harry's mind or vise versa? What if they both went mad because of it? What if—? What if—? What if—?

She almost went crazy wondering if she'd go crazy.

The day before her return to Hogwarts, her mother paid a visit to her room. Sitting down next to her on the bed, Molly Weasley took her daughter's hand and smiled reassuringly.

"You've been spending a lot of time in here," she said, glancing around at the complete mess Ginny's room had become.

Ginny made an off-hand noise, preferring to inspect her walls than her mother's face.

Gently, her mother took Ginny's chin, forcing Ginny to look at her. "Your father and I are worried about you. Is…is there anything you need to talk about?"

"No." It had been days since Ginny had said a word. Her voice was so hoarse, she sounded like a chain smoker.

Mrs. Weasley sensed the lie. Her eyes flitted to their joined hands. "You leave for Hogwarts tomorrow."

"I know."

"Are…are you going?"

"I don't want to."

Their eyes met. The chocolate of Mrs. Weasley's seemed to melt. The chocolate of Ginny's remained dull and flat. "Ginny…they're not coming back any time soon."

Ginny's face twitched.

"I know it's hard to accept. I'm still trying to….But waiting around for them while _you_ miss your opportunity to _learn_ isn't going to bring them back any sooner."

"I—I know."

"Good." Mrs. Weasley tucked a stray strand of hair behind Ginny's ear. "Be packed and ready to go by eight tomorrow morning."

And she left.

Ginny couldn't deny it—she missed Hogwarts. Harry, Ron, and Hermione wouldn't be there, of course. As far as Ginny could tell, they were concocting a plan to break into the Ministry of Magic. (_Maybe Harry had already gone crazy…and he dragged Ron and Hermione down with him_, thought Ginny.) Hogwarts wouldn't be the same without them. But if it meant gawking at a different quad of walls, Ginny would go without hesitation.

The ghoul moaned upstairs. It now lived in Ron's room, which was right above her own. Ginny spent many of her nights lying awake, listening to it moan and snore.

A smash. The ghoul screeched, its flailing and wounded noises so loud, her parents heard it from the kitchen.

Wands drawn, they came thundering up the stairs.

Ginny was already in Ron's room. What she saw made her want to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of it.

The ghoul must've found a pouch of Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder under Ron's bed. Thinking in was food, he took a taste, and threw in on the ground in revulsion, where it exploded. When Ginny entered, the powder was clearing from the air, revealing a ghoul full of cuts, shards of glass, and a broken window.

"He must've crashed into it when the powder detonated." Mr. Weasley said, out of breath but holding back laughter.

"Poor thing. Scared him half to death," replied Mrs. Weasley, giving the ghoul a sympathetic look. "Ginny, if you would, repair the window. I'll be right back with my books on healing spells. We'll patch him up."

A knock came from far below.

"That would be the death eaters," glowered Mr. Weasley, his ears turning red. "Come to make sure none of us has made a run for it."

He disappeared down the stairs, Mrs. Weasley close on his heels.

Ginny repaired the window with a flick of her wand. Her eyes moved from the ghoul, to Ron's bed, to the camp cot, and stopped.

In his panic, the ghoul had tipped it on its side. Bending to set it back on all four legs, an object caught her attention.

One of Harry's shirts.

Picking it up, Ginny ran the cloth through numb fingers.

When her parents returned, Ginny had retreated to her room and hidden the shirt deep in her school trunk.

Sometimes mental connections weren't enough.

* * *

><p>So sorry for the wait! I would've had this chapter up yesterday if it weren't for Word acting up on me. Well, enjoy! ; )<p> 


	4. A First For Everything

Ginny stood on Platform 9 ¾, accompanied by her mother. Mr. Weasley had been unable to take off of work. At breakfast, he'd smiled and hugged her, reminding her to write.

The train appeared different, in Ginny's perspective. It no longer held promises of happy memories yet to come, close friends, and exciting new adventures. Now, it was just a train, taking her to just a school.

The whistle blew, signaling departure.

Mrs. Weasley weaved through the crowds, Ginny in tow. With one last hug, Ginny boarded the train.

She waved amid the other students, watching her mother get farther and farther away as the train pulled out of the station.

Ginny didn't know what the school year would bring. She didn't know when she'd see Harry again. But she had to find Neville and Luna.

It was time to get her bearings.

Neville and Luna were sitting alone in a train compartment, animatedly talking and pointing at that morning's _Daily Prophet_ when Ginny located them. They turned in unison as soon as her fist rapped the compartment glass. She smiled; they smiled back. Neville got up to unlock the sliding door and let her in.

She plopped down next to Luna with a sigh of relief. "I've been looking _everywhere_ for you two. I was getting worried that you weren't coming this year."

"Yeah, well, a lot of people aren't here," said Neville bitterly.

"Really?" asked Ginny, interest sparking. "Like who?"

Neville glanced at Luna. She folded the _Daily Prophet_ with extra care than was necessary.

"_Who's_…_missing_?"

Luna paused. "Dean…a large amount of the DA…all the Muggle-borns…"

"Because of the blood status." Ginny concluded. A sour taste had risen in her throat.

Neville nodded.

Ginny's palms felt clammy. Leaning in close, she whispered. "There's something I've got to tell you."

Curious, they leaned in as well.

Ginny struggled to find a place to start. "Um…How much do you two know about the Ministry take-over?"

"Luna and I were just talking about that. Seems kinda funny that the Minister would up and resign for no reason."

"He didn't. He's dead."

"We figured. And the guy who replaced him, what's-his name—"

"Thicknesse."

"Yeah, him. He seems awful fishy...like he's Imperiused."

"He is. You-Know-Who is using him like a puppet."

"Lovely. Did you read today's _Daily Prophet_?"

Ginny blinked in surprise. "No. Why?"

"Luna, show her."

Luna unfolded the paper and gave it to Ginny. Turning it right-side-up, Ginny read: "Severus Snape Named Headmaster".

"Oh, no."

"Yep."

"What are we going to do?"

"Not much we _can_ do, I'm afraid."

"What about Harry and Ron and Hermione, Ginny?" asked Luna.

"They've gone on the run, what with a price on Harry's head and all. Story is that Ron can't attend school because he's sick with spattergroint. Hermione's hoping everyone will think she went on the run with her parents."

"So, no help from them, then."

"I doubt it. They'll be lucky to get inside the castle. Hell, we'll be lucky to get _out_ at all."

"Ginny, you spent the summer with them, what were they planning?"

Ginny bit her lip. She knew a good deal more than what the three had wanted her to know. A month of being bonded to Harry meant all their plans and plots for the future were sliding into Ginny's conscious without her consult. "They're out to stop You-Know-Who, obviously. And…if I'm right…they're putting their fist plan into action very soon."

"Really? Are they—you know—contacting you or something?"

"No, I heard them discussing it at the Burrow." Lie.

"So we're on our own?"

"Pretty much."

"Back to square one, I guess: What are _we_ gonna do?"

Ginny opened her mouth to make a suggestion, but no words came. A plug had been opened at the back of her brain. She was slipping away…into a world of pain and silvery blue electricity.

_She was Harry, but she wasn't._

_From a dream-like tunnel, she watched Harry slam into a brick wall. Pain exploded in the back of her head. A cloaked figure—one she recognized—retreated quickly from the familiar stone kitchen._

_Hermione ran after him, shouting for him to come back._

_Harry picked himself from the floor, rubbing the back of his head._

"Ginny? Ginny! Wake up!"

Large hands shook her shoulders, bringing her back to her body with the sensation like she'd been under water too long. She opened her eyes, waited for them to focus.

Neville and Luna stood above her.

Sitting up slowly—she must've slipped sideways on the compartment seat—Ginny put a hand to her throbbing head. It hurt in the exact place where Harry's met the stone wall.

"Ginny, are you okay? …For a moment there, we thought you'd drifted off. Then you cried out and started clawing at your head…"

Wiping her brow with a shaky hand, Ginny looked up into the concerned faces of her friends. "I'm fine, guys. Just a little faint. Give…give me a second." She laid her burning forehead against the cool glass of the window.

Neville and Luna exchanged a look, but did not press her for more. They sat and engaged in small talk while Ginny let her eyelids slip close.

_Harry?_ She thought, reaching out to him.

_…Yes?_ Came his reply.

_What happened? Was that…_Lupin_ I saw? Why did he slam you into a wall?_

_It's complicated…He wanted to join us._

_WHAT?_

_I know. He was acting all strange…and when we asked about Tonks…Did you know she'd pregnant?_

_TONKS? Harry, that's great—_

_News. Yeah. But Lupin doesn't think so. He's afraid his kid'll turn out like him._

_Oh…_

_I told him to get lost._

_HARRY!_

_Hey, if it keeps him with Tonks and their baby…_

_I guess…_A pause. _Harry?_

_Yeah?_

_Be careful. With infiltrating the Ministry and all._

_I…will._ He didn't ask how she knew—the answer was evident. _Tell Luna and Neville I said hi._

_I will._

_Bye, Gin._ And he was gone.

Ginny took a deep breath. "Harry says hi," she said, addressing her companions.

Neville and Luna stared at her.

"Don't ask," she warned, her face pink. She went back to staring out the window.

That…had been her first mental conversation with Harry. How odd it was, to hear his voice echoing inside her head. _Well_, thought Ginny, _I guess there's a first for everything._ Silently, she vowed to develop her connection—and her restraint there of. Neville and Luna were already getting suspicious.

Hogsmeade was in sight.

Once she got off the train, there was no going back.

But that was okay.

As long as Ginny had her friends, she was alright, she decided.

In tough times like this, they had to stick together.

* * *

><p><strong>Upon rereading my own chapters, I realised Ginny is very angist-ridden. So sorry if it bothers you. <strong>

**In my opinion, everyone has their own internal angist.**

**~})i({**


	5. Tired of Risks

ONE MONTH LATER

All was hushed, peaceful. The woods muffled all movement, quieted every sound. Leaves of brown, orange, and gold were uprooted from their branches and cascaded to the already leaf-covered forest floor.

Harry watched the sun set below the tree line. From his position at the tent entrance, he had an optimum view. The sky streaked with pinks, the forest silent, the sun sinking…almost made him forget everything that was wrong with his world.

How could such beauty remain in a planet full of turmoil?

Ron and Hermione were inside, bickering. _Probably about the indecency of our next meal_, Harry thought. They'd been griping a lot since the three of them had broken into the Ministry and stolen Slytherin's locket from Umbridge.

As if it knew he was thinking about it, the locket around his neck pulsed. Ice cold, alive…Harry hated it. Truth be told, it was the main reason they were always arguing. Something about it bittered their thoughts, soured their conversations.

He kept his mouth shut around Ron and Hermione, but secretly Harry wondered if the locket was interfering with his and Ginny's connection. Having it down his shirt, next to his heart—and Ginny's ghostly one—seemed to put a gap between them. He no longer saw into her thoughts or felt her emotions. The day Lupin paid them a visit was the first and last time he'd heard her telepathic voice.

_Then again_, thought Harry,_ I'm not really __**trying**__ to communicate. It's not safe for her._

Because she could see into his head.

He knew, going into this, that if Ginny was able to observe everything he saw, she might be dragged into Voldemort's mind whenever he, Harry, was.

And he was right. The assault he faced at Gimmauld Place was one he did not face alone. Ginny was with him. She'd struggled to pull herself out, to separate herself from Voldemort. But, like Harry, she was powerless throughout the ordeal.

It scared her, being in Voldemort's head.

Harry didn't particularly like it either, but he was used to it.

He distanced himself from Ginny, left her scrambling for answers as to what she had just seen. His will was infinitely stronger than hers, and, with shattering finality, built a mental wall of steel between them.

Once he was sure he wasn't going to be sucked back into Voldemort, he took down the barrier.

Ginny had remained silent ever since. Harry liked to think that she was mad at him for shutting her out in a time of need.

But—call it paranoia—Harry couldn't help but feel that the silence between them meant possible risk. Maybe his iron resolve had damaged their bond.

So, with sheer determination and extreme caution, he let his spirit escape his body and follow optic fiber-like tunnel of their connection. Not really in any hurry, he took time to examine the flashing blues and burning reds that swirled around him. _Proof_, he thought, _of two minds touching. _

Still, his progress was sluggish, as if he were moving through pudding. Was this the locket's doing?

Harry stopped just inside Ginny's mind, not wanting to truly be completely within her conscious. From here, he could hear her thoughts as clear as a bell on a quiet night, and glimpse into what she was doing and where she was.

Ginny was agitated about something. Thoughts were racing through her head, blood and adrenaline through her veins.

Neville and Luna were with her. Harry watched them duck into shadows and classrooms, obviously sneaking through the halls of Hogwarts.

He tried to figure out where it was they were going, but only got hold of brief flares of images. Correction—one image.

The headmaster's study.

_Are they going to attempt to overthrow Snape?_ Harry wondered. A chill ran through him. Surely they weren't _that_ suicidal.

They reached the gargoyle statue hiding the entrance to the Head Office.

Neville nodded.

Ginny raised her wand. Luna did the same.

The statue exploded.

Immediately, Luna cast a Silencing charm.

The explosion fell silent before it had the chance to make a noise.

First Ginny, then Neville, and finally Luna thundered up the spiral staircase. At the top, Ginny didn't pause, but blew the oak door with the brass knocker off its hinges.

Writhing inside Ginny's mind, Harry searched for the familiar greasy hair, black robes, and hooked nose. His actions were futile. The room was empty.

_If they're not after Snape, then what in the __**hell**__ are they after? _

Ginny turned her head, hunted with her eyes for something she already knew the location of. Harry was shown the image of a glass display case a split second before glass shards flew in all directions.

_No…no they __**couldn't**__ be—_

Confusion. Running.

Harry extended his reach into Ginny's hand, feeling for something he hoped wouldn't be there, but knew would be.

The sword of Gryffindor.

_"Ginny…you __**IDIOT**__!"_ Harry's mental voice blasted from him.

Ginny received it, the message reverberating through her entire body.

Her run faltered. She dropped the sword.

It skidded along the stone floor—

—right to the feet of a very angry hook-nosed man.

"Taking the sword for a walk, are we?" said Professor Snape in a dangerously calm voice. He bent and retrieved it from the floor.

"Yes, thank you." Neville spat, "You wouldn't happen to have a leash on hand?"

"Enough."

The darkness behind Snape materialized into two people Harry knew immediately to be death eaters. They had been at the top of the tower when Dumbledore was killed.

"Professors Carrow and Carrow…if you could kindly escort these three back to my office…"

Ginny and Luna submitted on the spot. Harry didn't understand why—

Neville put up a huge fight, which was surprising. He had changed over the summer, in a way Harry recognized.

The female death eater—Amycus—cackled at his physical and magical struggles to escape. She was better at magic by far. "Ha—we'd better give this one a taste of the good stuff, Alecto!"

Harry found out what the "Good Stuff" was. The Cruciatus curse.

All attempts to withhold his screams failed Neville.

Harry didn't want to witness this. He closed his eyes and tried to block out the sounds coming from his tortured friend.

"That's enough." Snape sneered.

Neville lay on his back on the stone floor, panting.

"Get up you fat lump. March! Move it!" Amycus forced him to his feet and they began the trek back to the Head Office.

_Harry, what the __**hell**__?_

Ginny's words made Harry squirm. _I didn't mean for that to happen. Besides, did I not tell you to __**not**__ risk your life for me?_

_Yes, but—_

_And just what were you planning on doing with the sword? _

_I was going to hang it on the wall in the Room of Requirement. Seriously, Harry, what do you __**think**__ I was going to do with it?_

_You can't send something like__** that**__ by owl, Ginny._

_Sirius sent you a Firebolt by owl, didn't he? _

_That's not the point. You don't even know where we are._

_Yes I do._

That surprised Harry. Had she been sneaking into his thoughts without telling him? _Where, then?_

_In a forest. Somewhere in Europe._

_There are a lot of forests in Europe._

_Look, Harry, any other time I'd love to have this conversation with you. But right now I'm headed to my certain expulsion. Or worse. _

_Well, maybe you should have thought of that __**beforehand**__._

A wordless cry of anger filled Ginny's head and, with sheer psychic force, she threw Harry back through their connection and into his own body.

When he opened his eyes, Hermione was standing over him with a worried look on her face. "It's your scar again, isn't it?"

"Yes." By far, it was easier to lie than tell the truth at this point.

In fact, he'd rather listen to Hermione badgering him than deal with the fuming female at the back of his mind.

_She can be mad. I'm tired of people getting hurt trying to help me…_

* * *

><p><strong>Hello! So sorry for the long wait. My family took a mini vacation and I spent a lot of time thinking about where I wanted this story to go.<strong>

**If you are like me, this story's uncanny ability to stick right to JK Rowling's original is...well, getting boring. So, from this chapter on, things are going to change. Who knows? Whole battles might have different outcomes.**

**This chapter is dedicated to Feff, who wanted a chapter from Harry's POV. Enjoy!**

**BTW: If you don't understand how the bond between Harry and Ginny works, view my profile. **

**Reviews are always appreciated!**

**~})i({**


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